


A Different Kind of Battle

by Makkoska



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal, M/M, Oral, PWP, Rough Sex, challene fic, medical ninjutsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hashirama finds that having sex with Madara is just as challenging as doing anything else with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Kind of Battle

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Written for pikacheeka‘s HashiMada challenge on Tumblr. 
> 
> Warnings: This is a shameless PWP, so you can expect minimal characterization, even less plot, but on the other hand explicit and lengthy description of sexual activities.

In Hashirama’s experience, sex was a good thing. Sometimes simply that - good - sometimes great or amazing. He never thought about it much, he considered it was the same for everyone. The joy of finding someone you wanted, and the ecstasy of reaching satisfaction together with them. Nobody he’d ever set an eye on said no to him, and nobody ever seemed disappointed afterwards, so what was there to overthink?

 

He assumed that it would be just the same with Madara.

 

He wanted the Uchiha more than anyone else ever before, so he expected sex with him would be the most easy and earth-shattering.

 

Which was stupid, as nothing concerning Madara was ever easy. Things rather tended to be heart-breaking, painful, awkward, frustrating, dangerous or angering. And the mixture of the above.

 

Getting him agree to lay with him was no exception.

 

The realization that he wanted the other man like he only wanted women before was sudden, but seemed so natural that he didn’t stop to think about it. It was shortly after the war ended, they were standing close to each other, leaning above the plans of the village to be built. Hashirama looked at him from the corners of his eyes and thought that he was waiting for this, to talk to Madara casually about their dreams for a decade now. That it was unbelievable that it took them ten years and so many deaths to be able to do it again. Thought about the many sleepless nights and desperate daydreams where he pictured this scene, to have him as a friend and ally.  Right then it became obvious that he wanted even more from the Uchiha, maybe always wanted it.

 

So he reached out and caressed his face. Madara almost broke his arm for it.

 

Hashirama, at twenty-four, had to learn that not everyone was willing to get in bed with him straight away, so he started to court his choice. The experience proved to be heart-breaking, painful, awkward, frustrating, dangerous and angering, in that order. Not a day passed when he didn’t have to heal his wounds, drink a few cups of sake to ease his aching heart, take care of his poor, neglected erection the solitary way or to drag off Tobirama to a thorough training to get his mind off… other things.

 

“Why do you have to be so… you?” he snapped after a few aggravating months. Madara just cut his cheek after he tried to kiss him. “I just want the best for both of us!” They were in his house, and he really hoped that the Uchiha accepting his invitation meant that he was finally open for more to happen.

 

“What are you talking about?” Madara waved the bloody dagger in front of his face.

 

“Don’t you want this? I do want you…”

 

“No, of course I don’t want…” the Uchiha denied instantly. If he was bad at courting - which he was now willing to admit - with handling denial Hashirama was even worse. He just had to go ahead and convince Madara with his sensual skills, he decided. So, risking a kunai through his guts, he closed the space between them, grabbed that unruly black hair, and kissed its equally untameable owner. Madara hit the back of his head with the handle of his weapon, making him dizzy, but at least he didn’t sink the blade into his flesh, which might as well meant that he didn’t really object. Hashirama kept this firmly in mind as he was bit and clawed, and indeed, after a while, the other man started to kiss him back.

 

They were moving, although Hashirama became aware of it only when Madara’s back hit the wall, but he didn’t mind backing him into a corner. He was already pushing up that long shirt, touching white skin marked with scars underneath and biting not-so-gently into that slender but muscled neck that always tempted him. Damn, but he was intoxicating, his scent dazzling Hashirama and wiping any thought from his brain, leaving nothing, just the longing to have him finally.

 

Madara moaned, arching his back as the Senju’s nails accidentally scraped against one of his nipples, so Hashirama did it again on purpose this time. All these annoying, long and thick Uchiha clothes that got in the way were driving him crazy. He tried to get them out of the way first gently, then with increasing urgency. He probably did it with too much zest, as Madara’s shirt ripped with a loud crack from its wide neck to its middle. A moment of foreboding silence followed, then the Uchiha opened his so far closed lids and glared at him with murderous intent.

 

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he hissed, shoving Hashirama away, as if seconds ago he wasn’t reciprocating his touches, giving as good as he got.

 

There were two ways ahead. Turning tail to run or risking his neck with charging ahead. It was a lucky thing, in this aspect at least, that Hashirama fought so many battles against him. This wasn’t that much different and even in war, tactical retreat wasn’t his thing. So instead of answering, he just kissed the shorter man again, not pulling back even when strong, sharp teeth sank into his bottom lip with enough pressure to draw blood, or when slender, white fingers almost gouged his eyes out in an effort to force him back. He just hoped that Madara didn’t have his kunai at hand any longer.

 

There was a very thin line between Madara resisting and Madara wanting sex, he found. He still bit, he still clawed his back, he still pulled his hair. He just started to arch into his kisses and utter very quiet, greedy moans that turned the Senju on more than he thought it possible.

 

Sex, in Hashirama’s previous experiences, was gentle or passionate, fun or intimate, depending on his partner. He’d never thought about it like a fight before, a serious one at that, where he suffered countless wounds before he could conquer victory. It was everything he associated with Madara, painful, awkward, frustrating, dangerous, angering and the other lot, he didn’t even know why he was surprised.

 

He found that neither of it diminish his libido the slightest.

 

Soon enough they were undressed as much as they needed to be, both of their clothing ending up tattered. The other man was just as he fantasized about him under his robes, all lean, springy muscles, hard angles with faded scars crisscrossing his torso, his back, one of his thighs the most arousing way. He slid down on his body, kissing every one of them, licking their rough surface. Madara made those little groans that drove him out of his mind. He also grabbed a handful of Hashirama’s hair, pulling on it, sinking his nails into his scalp when the Senju found a large scar under his sharp hipbone and took his time kissing and licking it. The Uchiha was erect, his cock jutting up, red, demanding attention, inches from his face. When he casually, almost as if he was doing it by accident, pushed Hashirama’s head towards it, the Senju wondered if it was the right time to confess; he never did what Madara wanted before.

 

But no, that would have just scared him away, so he flashed a hopefully reassuring smile at his friend as he sank to his knees from his crouching position, reminded himself that letting him do this was a show of trust, that it was something that lovers did to each other, and that how much he enjoyed it when his previous partners did it to him, and took the Uchiha’s prick into his mouth.

 

The taste was alien, not vile, if not pleasant by any measure either. But Madara’s scent, what he always found so nice was stronger here and that made it easy to go on. He glimpsed up at him, to find him with his eyes closed, his hand before his mouth as if to keep back any sound from emerging. Having this kind of effect on this proud man was just as much a turn on as kissing and touching him. So he did the best he managed, feeling disgraceful and awkward, but very much aroused by the happenings, almost as if he was the one having his cock sucked.

 

He didn’t manage to do a very expert job of it, he had to admit. He could hardly fit anything into his mouth, and Madara wasn’t that _big._ Not that he wanted to compare dicks, it was just natural to notice (and natural to feel pride over it), that his own was both longer and thicker. He covered the rest with his hand, and tried to coordinate his movements. Madara was moving just slightly, and that didn’t help him, really. When the other snapped his hips up a bit too sharply, making him choke and splutter, he decided he had enough of this part.

 

He stood up and, ignoring his weak protest that it wasn’t sanitary, kissed his lover again - he guessed he could call him that now, _lover,_ at least in his mind. Had a very nice ring to it. He pulled him closer and cupped his arse. He was so excited that just thinking about having him finally made him feel like coming. His fingers slid between that tempting crack to press against his hole. Madara tensed, so he tried to keep him trapped between himself and the wall, so he couldn’t escape.

 

“Please,” he murmured against his friend’s lips as a non-too elaborate ask for permission when his wandering fingers pushed in just a bit and the slender body in his arms tensed. Mind foggy with all-consuming lust, Hashirama still realized that he’d need something to ease the way with. He should have been prepared, he cursed himself, thinking longingly of having some ointment with him, but knowing that if he let Madara go now, he might not get this far ever again.

 

This was no ordinary sex, he reminded himself, this was a battle. You can’t say to your opponent on a battleground either that you’re sorry, but forgot your weapon at home, let’s continue this some other time. He just had to improvise.

 

Using a healing technique that relaxed tense muscles might do the trick he reasoned. He should have clued on Madara what he was planning though, as when he started to form the handsigns, the Uchiha grabbed his wrist and, pulling a kunai apparently out from thin air, pressed the blade against his throat. Paranoid bastard as he was, he probably thought Hashirama wanted to attack him. Or he just simply didn’t approve of his method.

 

“Madara…” there was everything in that one word, his need, his desperation, his frustration.

 

“I don’t know what your game is, but…” in the Uchiha’s tone however he could only hear coldness and suspicion. The burning anger just below the calm surface that was always there.

 

“I just want it to feel good… make you feel good, if you let me...”

 

“Why should I let you do anything?”

 

“Trust me…”

 

“ _Why_ should I?”

 

To hell with trying to convince him, thought Hashirama. He would never get anywhere with words. He couldn’t get him agree to peace either, just when he’d almost gutted himself in desperation. So, ignoring the razor sharp blade below his Adam’s apple he just looked into the other’s dark eyes deeply and continued to form the handsigns.

 

“Stop it,” Madara hissed with an angry frown between his brows. When Hashirama didn’t, he pressed the dagger down until the taller man could feel a warm trickle of blood starting to run down his throat. He leaned in to kiss the Uchiha again and this time he could finish the activation of the jutsu without suffering further injuries.

 

Madara gasped into his mouth when he pressed his palm against his backside. The gods above, but it was impossibly hard to keep the flow of chakra calm and soothing as it was needed for this technique, when all he wanted to do is to devour this man he so longed for, to slam into his body, to fuck him, to have him, to become one with him. Madara was making those little moans again, and that didn’t help much either. He moved his fingers and pushed first one than a second up his body. It should work like this, he thought desperately, it should be enough, because he was just unable to restrain his need any longer.

 

When he spread saliva on his hard cock, he felt Madara tense up in his arms, but he didn’t try to back out. Hashirama didn’t know what he would have done if he did.

 

One of the Uchiha’s thighs ended up wrapped around his waist as he positioned his length. As slow as his ragged self-control allowed, he pushed into his friend’s body. Madara hissed, pulling on his hair with his with his full weight, it was a wonder he wasn’t tearing out handfuls of it. And there was no reason why it turned Hashirama on even more.

 

But it did. Hashirama hooked his arm under Madara’s other leg as well, picking him up completely. Inch by self-control breaking inch, he sank into him until his erection was buried to the root. They stayed like that, almost motionless for a long moment, until Hashirama felt his arms tremble, not with the effort of holding the other man’s weight, but with his hardly containable need to move.

 

Madara decided to break the spell first. Grabbing a fistful of the Senju’s hair for support again he raised himself up and all but dropped back on his cock. That did it. The next instant they were both moving, one of Hashirama’s fingers digging into the Uchiha’s hip, his other, sweaty palm trying to find balance on the wall between his jerky thrusts. Madara’s thighs were like vice around his waist and his nails dig hard enough into his back to leave marks. He was panting, gasping little words that didn’t make a sense, but sounded as if they were uttered as much in fury as in passion.

 

“Damn it… fuck… Madara…” Hashirama was not really coherent either. He tried to capture his lover’s lips again, but he had his eyes closed and back arched, so he kissed and bit what he could reach, his white neck just above his collarbone. He took the other man by surprise evidently, as he jerked up violently. Unbalanced as their position was, Hashirama stumbled, his cock slipping free.

 

“Why is something so simple as fucking is so difficult with you?” Madara, standing on his feet again and glaring at him, complained. He was the one to talk, after making Hashirama work so bloody hard to get them here. So he didn’t even deign that with an answer, rather lunged at the frowning Uchiha and tackled him down to the ground. He got a few more hits and bites for his effort, but he really didn’t care about that anymore. In a heartbeat he was pushing into the other again, and Madara’s legs were back around his waist. He was moving faster and faster, pounding into the slender body under his, close to his peak, although he didn’t want to finish yet. Not when he had been waiting so much for this, not when he couldn’t be sure whether there would  be a next time.

 

Still, when Madara’s fingers wrapped around his own erection to stroke himself, the sight combined with the heat and tightness around his prick was just too much.

 

He grabbed his arse, lifted him off the ground as he pulled his cheeks apart with his fingers, to go in as deeply as it was possible. A few hard thrusts and he was coming, the world greying out at the edges, till nothing existed any more just his connection to Madara and the pleasure he was feeling. He was dimly aware that his lover arched his back until only his shoulder blades touched the ground, and that he tightened around Hashirama’s softening cock as he spilled his own semen.

 

Lying boneless and sated half on the other man, half on the ground, Hashirama felt happier than ever before in his life. His skin burned where Madara clawed and bit him, his scalp tingled where he pulled his hair and blood was drying on his throat where the dagger cut him. Getting here might have been heart-breaking, painful, awkward, frustrating, dangerous and angering, but the satisfaction was worth it a thousand times. The Uchiha had one arm around his neck, holding him close as if he didn’t want to let him go. Hashirama smiled. That was almost as good as the sex.

 

“Don’t you want to get off from me?” Madara complained after a while, but didn’t ease his hold at all. Hashirama kissed his neck, and he muttered something about bull-headed Senjus.

 

“We have to repeat this again,” Hashirama stated, voice more confident than he felt.

 

“Why do you think I have the time to idle with you?” Madara’s tone was dismissive, but his body language wasn’t. The taller man wondered if his friend was aware at all how his fingers started to play with his hair.

 

“You have the time now, don’t you? Just give me five minutes.”

 

“What?! You have to be kidding!”

 

Hashirama raised himself on one elbow, grinned at his lover, then dipped his head down to kiss him deeply. The way he was, he probably wouldn’t need five minutes at all.

 

 

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**FIN**

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